


The Oldest Emotion

by In_Time_of_Peril



Series: Postbellum [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time War Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 20:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4151943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Time_of_Peril/pseuds/In_Time_of_Peril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one wants to be frightened - not really.  Sometimes, the most frightening thing of all is not knowing what happened to cause the fear in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Oldest Emotion

When she was young, Mel discovered that she rather liked to be frightened.  Only a little, really, and only at a distance.  She liked a scary story now and again, or the occasional chance to see a creepy movie.  That was as far as it went.

Of course, once she started traveling with the Doctor, there was far too much real frightening stuff happening right in front of her.  Alien monsters, intergalactic war, pain, death.  It all scared her, and she screamed perhaps a bit more often in those days than she would care to admit, but in some ways all of those experiences hardened her.

Once she was traveling with Glitz, and then on her own, she got harder still to frighten.  She didn’t scream anymore, though sometimes she would wake up shivering, whimpering from some awful dream-memory.

There are some events that she can’t remember clearly anymore.  She’s certain that if she really could recall them, she would be well and truly frightened again.

She thinks there was fighting.  Running and fighting and utter terror.  None of it is clear anymore, and she’s really glad of that.

Now life is as close as it will probably ever get to what her parents might have wished for her.  She’s settled down, with a good job and a caring partner.  Ace loves her, and they look after each other.  She cares for Ace on the days when the pain is too much, and Ace cares for her on the days when the gaps in memory frustrate her beyond all reason.

They care for each other most on the nights when they’ve both awakened, frightened and tense, fighting to pull away from nightmares that they barely remember having.  Mel almost thinks, sometimes, that she lives for those moments, feeling Ace’s arms tight around her, knowing that Ace needs the closeness as much as she does.

Those are the times when Ace most often whispers “I love you,” and Mel almost wants to cry because the voice that whispers those sweet words sounds so hoarse and shaky and lost.

There are other, more mundane reasons to be frightened nowadays.  There’s worrying to be done about the little things in life that can pile up.  Mel’s never been too heavily concerned over those before, but then, it’s not just herself she worries about now.  She worries about Ace (if Ace knew how much, she would grin that little lop-sided grin and rumple Mel’s hair and say there’s nothing to worry about).

And now, of course, there’s Kathy to worry about.  She’s a good child, smart and strong and brave, but she **is** just a child.  Their child.  Anything can happen to a child, no matter how careful and loving the parents are.  Ace always seems so calm with her, so gentle and carefree; at least that’s how it is now.  Mel still remembers how it was when Kathy was a baby, how Ace would get nervous, even panicky, about every little thing.  Even now, Mel sometimes catches a look in Ace’s eyes, a harsh watchfulness that’s more than just an attentive parent looking after their offspring.  Still, Ace never lets her concern show too openly beyond that look, and beyond a tighter-than-usual hug sometimes as Kathy goes off to school on a day when Ace won’t be home that night.

One night, a rare quiet, lonely night, when Kathy’s at a sleepover and work hasn’t intruded into their home, Mel finds herself on the sofa, watching a movie with Ace.  It’s not exactly a blockbuster, just some run-of-the-mill semi-action movie.  Ace doesn’t really watch these sorts of things anymore, or at least she doesn’t pay attention while they’re on.

“Seen enough of that stuff in real life,” she says, and then laughs when some special effect is “totally not how that works.”

Mostly, they’ve turned the telly on for white noise, and they’re just sitting on the sofa, Mel cuddled against Ace’s side, Ace’s fingers playing in the curls of Mel’s hair.  There are kisses, now and then, and little giggles when their noses bump before their lips can meet.

Ace gets up for a moment to go to the kitchen, and Mel is alone, half watching the action on the screen.  There’s a motorbike chase going on amid an awful lot of fire and ruined structures.  An explosion rocks one building, and it collapses, leaving little room for the protagonist to negotiate.

Things are flooding back.  Thoughts, memories, impressions.  Fire, a lot of it for such a watery planet, and inhuman screeching.  There are saucers overhead, the small ones, and as she rounds the corner, she nearly collides with a cohort of burned and burning hatchlings.  They’re small, frail-looking, and she wants to go to them, to help them somehow, but Crispin is pulling at her arm, telling her they have to go, they have to meet Sam at the checkpoint - and then he releases her arm and he’s gone.  Just - gone.

She can see the Daleks ahead, coming straight for her, can hear the other fighters running, crying out.  She dives into a discarded dump-box, curls up with her knees against her chin, eyes squeezed shut.  Another noise is cutting through everything now, a vaguely familiar wheezing-groan - but it’s about a half-tone off from what she recalls.

Against her better judgement she’s peering out of the box, slinging her gun against her back, feeling the comfort of the little hold-out blaster in her boot.  There’s a figure silhouetted against the flames, strong, compact, toting an enormous weapon that blasts the Dalek casings open as if they were no more than cheap plastic.

There’s nothing after that, just a cascade of fire and screeching and some pain, but then there’s a hand on her shoulder, a voice calling to her through the memory.

Ace is with her, kneeling beside her on the floor.  Mel realises that she’s now on the floor, sitting between the sofa and the coffee table.  Her knees are drawn up to her chin, and her eyes only spring open when she hears the familiar tones of Ace’s voice over the thrumming of her own blood in her ears.

“Mel - Melanie, listen, please!  Please, babe, please.  Come back now.  That’s all - it’s over, Mel.  It’s all over.  We’re here now.  Home.  We’re safe.”

The words are familiar; Mel knows that she has said something like them herself perhaps a hundred times while comforting Ace.  She never expected to hear them repeated back so easily.  That frightens her, somehow.

Soon enough she’s in Ace’s arms, shivering.  Ace is stroking her hair, whispering to her; the telly’s been turned off, but the silence of the house seems to roar around them.

“I’ve got you now.  I’m not letting go, Mel.  Nothing bad - none of that stuff can get us now, huh?”

They stay that way, maybe for an age, before Ace suddenly shifts around and stands.  Mel wants to say something, to explain that she’s fine now, that really, it’s all past, but she can only cling to Ace.  Then they’re back on the sofa, in their lounge, in their home, far away from any of those horrible things that happened a lifetime ago.  They’re holding onto each other.

For the moment, at least, there’s nothing left to be frightened of.


End file.
